The Squeak
by asearcher
Summary: Written to the 12-2010 Word Prompt at The Delphic Expanse  Wax .  An annoyance that Archer thought was in his past rears it's ugly head again.  A solution is easier said than done.


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**The Squeak**

"I really hope this is the last time I need to repeat this but it's started squeaking again." An exasperated Captain Jonathan Archer was trying to explain the situation to the chief engineer, after going up the chain from the engineer in charge of Enterprise's repairs to his supervisor and finally, to this man. They were at Jupiter Station for upgrades beyond what Trip and his staff could do. The annoying sound that had been a major irritation to him in the past had returned.

"And I'm telling you we don't have any record of it squeaking in the first place…" Lieutenant Randall Giles countered, his tone of voice colored with impatience.

"I reported it. Don't you have any of the reports I sent during the first year of our mission?"

"And that would be…"

Archer blinked. "You're kidding. You don't know the year when the first NX starship left spacedock?"

"I remember reading about it in school. Can't place when though. I know it was a few years ago."

"2151," Jon stated, his voiced showing a barely noticeable but definitely present strain. "We launched six years ago."

"Ok. If you say so. But that explains why we don't have a record of the squeaking. If there haven't been any officially opened tickets, we delete any reports after five years."

"Well, if you'd bothered to keep them, you would know I had a squeak in my ready room flooring for nearly the entire first year we were out there."

"How did you stop it from squeaking again?" the engineer looked down at the PADD he was holding, scanning the reports from his subordinates and obviously skeptical about what he was seeing.

Jon sighed. He'd explained this to the previous two engineers. "We didn't. A creepy automated repair facility fixed it."

"Do you know what they did?" Giles sounded bored. "Do you have a repair receipt?"

Having had enough of the document run around, Archer snapped, "Yeah. They tried to shanghai my helmsman and use his brain as a computer node." He mumbled to himself. "And it was easier working with that demented system than it apparently is with the current Jupiter Station Engineering staff."

"Excuse me?" Giles asked, looking up.

It wouldn't get him anywhere to state what would likely be perceived as an insult. "Nothing…and no I don't have a repair receipt. We didn't have time to get one after we blew the frigging nightmare station to kingdom come."

"You _what_?"

"We blew it up."

"I thought they fixed your squeak."

Jon counted to ten mentally. "They did," he answered tightly. He paused, deciding to start over. "Listen, can we just focus on the squeak that needs to be fixed now?"

Giles handed Archer a PADD. "You'll need to document exactly where the problem is occurring and its frequency. We'll add that to the list of items to check. You can turn in the PADD at the intake desk."

"Fine. I'll do that."

Giles walked off with an air that he'd taken care of the situation.

Jon looked at the PADD and sighed. Still, this was likely the only way he was going to get that annoying sound fixed.

ENTENTENT

The door chime rang. "Come in," Archer called out.

The door opened to reveal Trip Tucker. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah. Sit down." After the blond man complied, Jon pushed a PADD over to him. "When did these engineering forms get so…involved?"

Trip picked up the PADD and looked at it. "The squeak again? I told you, Cap'n, there's nothing there. I've checked it three ways to Sunday and there's absolutely no reason you should be hearing a squeak."

"But I do."

"You sure it's not just in your head?" At the look his friend threw him, he finished, "I'm just saying."

"There's a squeak. It's the same squeak I heard before that crazy station fixed it and even if that place still existed, I wouldn't really want to repeat the experience."

"Don't blame you there," Trip agreed, his face mirroring his CO's discomfort of the memory.

"So, after you explained to me there wasn't anything that should cause a squeak, I decided to get a second opinion. No offense. You know I think your engineering skills are top-notch. You've shown that ten thousand times or more since I first met you. I just thought, maybe, someone else might see something you missed. Even you're not perfect, Trip."

'None taken. Sometimes that's not a bad idea." He looked at the PADD again. "So what's the problem?"

"The form they want me to fill out."

"The new 2675-B?" the engineer queried.

"I think so. It's like six pages long."

Trip explained, "Major Goodpaster in Joint Services convinced Starfleet that gathering more information would allow better analysis to be performed to improve our fleet. "

"Well it seems they want to know everything short of my underwear size," Jon responded with exasperation.

"That wouldn't really be helpful in finding the cause of the squeak," Trip grinned.

Archer's eyes narrowed. "I was being facetious."

Getting that this had once again become Jon's white whale, regardless of its relative unimportance, he unconsciously scratched behind his ear as he answered, "I got that. Geez, Jon, don't get your…how did Mal put it…get you knickers in a twist."

Archer sighed and rubbed his temple. "I just want the squeak to stop. Is that so much to ask?"

"So, what do you want me to do?" Tucker responded, seeing his friend was really frustrated and wanting to help get him back on an even keel.

"I want you to help me get that form filled out so that I can get that second opinion," Jon stated, hope in his eyes that perhaps, if that was accomplished the squeaking would finally stop for good.

"Ok, sure." Trip spent the next few minutes filling out the 2675-B. When he was finished, he handed it back to Jon. "All you need to do it sign it."

"Thanks, Trip."

"No problem."

ENTENTENT

"We couldn't find anything," Giles reported with an unspoken message in his stance that indicated he'd never expected to find anything in the first place.

"It's there. It's intermittent, but it's there," Jon insisted again.

"Whatever you say. Still, if we can't find it, we can't fix it." It was clear that the lieutenant felt that was all that needed to be said, annoyed that Archer hadn't accepted the message.

"So that's it?" Jon asked, not willing to give up his quest for silence quite yet regardless of how much of a pain this man thought he was being.

"Unless you want us to take your ready room apart and put it back together again, which may or may not solve the problem. That would require a form 8632-E and the signature of you, me, the chief purser, and Admiral Gardner." Giles had the smug look of a man who doubted the captain before him would be tenacious enough to volley the issue back to him.

Realizing that escalation to his superior wouldn't likely produce satisfaction, Jon closed his eyes for a moment as he accepted the inevitable. It felt like surrender as he groused, "No. I'll just have to get used to it, I guess." He knew that Gardner wouldn't understand why an intermittent squeak could be so irritating to him. He wasn't even one hundred percent sure why himself. It just was. Irritating.

With false concern coloring his voice, the engineer showed he knew it was set and match, "All right. Let us know if there's anything else we can do."

"You'll be the first to know," Archer responded without conviction.

ENTENTENT

T'Pol was in the mess hall when her commanding officer walked in. As he moved to the beverage dispenser, she noted his drooping shoulders and near listless movements. Over the past six years, she'd learned to read the emotions of her human shipmates, especially the Captain. Trip told her it was one of the main reasons she was such a good first officer. At the moment, she read mild depression. As he turned, a mug of what she assumed was coffee in his hands, she caught his eye. "Care to join me?"

"Sure." He sat down. "Your tea good?"

"It is refreshing," she answered. She had learned to appreciate that humans often moved into conversation slowly using small talk. "How is your coffee?"

"I don't know. I haven't taken a sip yet."

"Of course." She waited until he had and raised an eyebrow.

"It's…ok." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"You appear disconcerted."

"It's that squeak. The one in my ready room. It's back and nobody knows how to fix it short of tearing the frigging room apart. I just want it to stop."

"Did you fill out the 2675-B?" she asked calmly.

"You know about that?" Jon's face animated in surprise at her response. When she gave a slight nod to indicate she did, he added, grumpily, "Yeah, not that it did any good." Whining slightly, he finished. "I know I'm not crazy. That squeak is there even if no one can find it."

"Would you mind if I looked into it?"

"No. Knock yourself out." He scowled as he took another sip of the coffee. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good company right now, "a slight apologetic grin gracing his face. "Seriously, if you want to waste your time trying to find the squeak that everyone thinks is inside my head, feel free. I'm sure you won't find anything either but it couldn't hurt." He got up; shoulders drooping even further if that were possible. "I'll be on the bridge." He took the unfinished coffee over to the disposal unit before walking out.

T'Pol finished her tea and left as well.

ENTENTENT

"What did you do?" Archer asked incredulously.

"Excuse me?" T'Pol answered quietly as Archer approached her station.

"You fixed the squeak. How?"

"Wax."

"Wax?"

"Specifically the wax from one of my meditation candles. They are crafted from a layer in the _d'lechu_ succulent found on Vulcan," she explained to his query.

"So you rubbed the wax into the floor and it stopped the squeak? That's it?"

"Do you hear it anymore?" The question was pregnant in her voice and eyes.

"No. I also noticed a new smell in the room. It's…well…it smells good."

"The _d'lechu _is known for its pleasant aroma. It is why the wax is prized for candles of meditation."

"Well, whatever you did, I'm eternally thankful, T'Pol." Jon eyes and light smile conveyed his appreciation for her actions.

"You are welcome."

As Captain Archer returned to his ready room, she noted the normally tight muscles in his shoulders had visibly relaxed. She also was glad to see the - what humans called spring – was back in his step. T'Pol felt satisfaction.

"What did you really do?" Trip asked, walking over to her station having overheard the entire conversation. "There wasn't anything there."

"There was to the Captain," T'Pol pointed out.

"Yeah. So what did you really do?" Trip continued to press.

"Exactly what I said I did. I rubbed the wax from a _d'lechu_ candle into the area of the floor he complained about. I also rubbed his desk with the same so he will receive the full benefit of the aroma. I've also added that process to the cleaning protocol for the room."

Trip's forehead creased, "You sure that won't hurt him over time? Smelling that stuff?"

"I checked this solution with Phlox first. It apparently has a mildly positive effect on the serotonin levels in humans. He'll be fine."

Trip smiled as he returned to his bridge station. He had to admit it was an insightful solution.

ENTENTENT

Jon reentered his ready room. He hadn't been quite honest with T'Pol. The sound of the squeak still entered his consciousness. However, he'd appreciated her solution in the face of engineering illogic.

He'd first noticed the almost imperceptible aroma when he'd walked into the room that morning. That part was true. The smell _was_ soothing. At first he'd felt slightly annoyed that she thought that this potential patch on his psyche was a viable resolution to his problem. Then he realized that she was the only one that had attempted any way out of his dilemma short of implying he was hearing imaginary things.

Maybe it was that, or maybe it was the fact that he'd accepted that some annoyances simply couldn't be eliminated, but when the squeak made its intermittent presence known, it wasn't as upsetting to him. He'd just breathed a little deeper and let the soothing aroma from the Vulcan _d'lechu_ wax do its work. Illogical, maybe. But if his very logical Vulcan first officer thought it would work, he'd decided to give it a go.

With that settled, he continued his duties, reviewing the latest reports from his senior officers.


End file.
